


And we're not waiting 'til it's time to play

by Ingi



Series: make it the shape of everything you need [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Anonymity, Authority Figures, Background Poly, Community: kink_bingo, Competition, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Minor Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Post-Grand Prix Final, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Silence Kink, Smut, Sub Yuri Plisetsky, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-11-28 14:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11419956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingi/pseuds/Ingi
Summary: "This is not really about the sex, is it?" Yuuri asks, soft, not even stumbling over the word.Score."Kind of," Yuri admits, and allows himself a huge bite of Kotlety. "You really should check your phone, by the way. You know how your ridiculous boyfriend gets when you're not paying him attention for more than five minutes.""You meanoneof my ridiculous boyfriends," Yuuri corrects him, and Yuri grins despite himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I started watching the show, I was convinced Yuri and Yuuri were both around 18. What a pipe dream.
> 
> Aaanyway, as the "Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky" tag implies, Yuri is not underage in this, but A) tbh I don't think it's explicitly stated anywhere and B) if this creeps you out anyway, plz do avoid reading, be safe! <3
> 
> This was supposed to be filthy smut, but apparently Victor can't stand being in the sidelines and hand to butt in and sidetrack everything. Sighhh. Well, my guys, you've got domestic fluff and some sexting in chapter one, and actual smut in chapter two.  
> 

Yuri gets bored after about an hour of being on his phone.

While it's true that the number of cat videos in the Internet is limitless, they'd distract him from watching Yuuri cook in Victor's kitchen, once the most barren of the wastelands and now probably the most well-stocked kitchen in Russia. Not that Victor is here right now to enjoy it _or_ entertain Yuri, because of course that man has a sixth sense for knowing where he could be useful and avoiding that place at all costs.

So instead, Yuri has been mass messaging that Phichit Chulanont, Yuuri's Detroit friend, in all his social media profiles —and there are _a lot_ —, hoping to annoy him into sending Yuri the diverse photos and footage of _Katsuki Yuuri and Pole dancing: Origins_ that Chulanont claimed to have the last time they met him. Normally, Yuri would assume such comments are only a ploy to mortally embarrass Katsudon, which is a sport he can get behind, but after that particular observation, Yuuri's blush had reached about an eight on Yuri's scale, nearly critical levels that are rarely achieved unless Victor is somehow involved.

Yuri can empathize, for once. Victor _is_ terribly embarrassing, although probably not in the same way for Katsudon.

"Your stupid Detroit boyfriend won't send me the photos I'm asking him for," Yuri complains out loud.

"Phichit can't be bribed or blackmailed," Yuuri replies, lifting his head to grin proudly at him. His smile falls immediately after, replaced by a displeased frown. "And would you please stop calling him that? You know how Victor gets when he hears it, and I _refuse_ to deal with that again." And, a beat later, "Which photos?"

"Nothing important," Yuri lies, carefully examining his phone case for dents.

Considering all he's heard about Chulanont, from Yuuri himself, even, Yuri very much doubts he's not susceptible to bribbing and/or blackmail, but he does believe that Chulanont values irritating people over flustering Yuuri. It's one of the things Yuri doesn't agree with him on. A flustered Yuuri is, nine times out of ten, _much_ more interesting. Not to mention pretty. But that's a given, so much of one that Yuri doesn't even bother pretending he doesn't think it, because _everyone_ who can be dubed sane thinks the same.

It's only that, unlike what happens with Victor, Yuri is not particularly concerned over strangers and friends alike admiring Yuuri, as long as they're very aware of how out of their reach he is.

And speaking of Victor.

**Annoying Old Man (19:12)**  
_are you still in our house, yura? (~˘▾˘)~_

Yuri huffs.

**To: Annoying Old Man (19:12)**  
_i live here more than you at this point_  
_the hell you want_

"Is that Victor?" Yuuri suddenly says.

He has this weird instinct for knowing when Victor's behind a text or a call, nevermind that Yuri didn't set any special ringtones for him. Sometimes he'd would like to know whether Yuuri has developed the same instinct for _him_ , but it's not doable, since Katsudon _has_ set different ringtones for both of them. Yuri's is a cat meowing.

There are probably more perfect people than Katsuki Yuuri in the world, but Yuri doesn't know them nor he _wants to_.

**Annoying Old Man (19:13)**  
_yuuri won't answer my texts_  
_(ಥ﹏ಥ)_  
_I've called him twice too_  
_yura, help_  
_I need to know if I have to buy milk_  
_but we won't need milk if yuuri leaves me_  
_is he leaving me, yura?_

"That's definitely Victor," Yuuri chuckles. "You always make that face when you're talking with him."

"Yeah, because he _sucks_ ," Yuri replies, rolling his eyes. He observes Yuuri for a while, how he chops vegetables with a grace that he usually only exhibits in the rink. It's Kotlety night, but Katsudon insists on stuffing them with what he calls _balanced meals_ , which apparently means that every single dish has to be accompained by some sort of vegetable or another. For the look of things, today's side dish is yasai tempura. "Do we need milk?" he asks, distractedly.

"You can get up from that couch and check yourself."

Yeah, right.

**Annoying Old Man (19:17)**  
_yura_  
_yuraaaa_  
_YURA_  
_yura, please, I'm dying_  
_he's leaving, isn't he?_  
_DO I NEED TO GET MILK OR DIVORCE PAPERS_

**To: Annoying Old Man (19:17)**  
_yeah i stole him away from you_  
_were very very far by now so dont bother looking for us_  
_also youre not married idiot_

"Victor is annoying me with the marriage thing again," Yuri complains, and doesn't even care if he sounds like a child. Potentially getting Victor in trouble is worth it. "He's accusing me of stealing you too."

"You know no one is getting married for now," Yuuri placates him, without even lifting his gaze from the vegetables, the _asshole_. "And Victor annoys you by breathing." He ignores the second part of Yuri's complaint, too, but Yuri can't tell whether it's because he knows it's —kinda, sorta, and _this time only_ — a lie or because he's just too tired of dealing with it. "So do we need milk?"

"Nah."

"We don't need milk or you haven't checked?"

"Both," Yuri replies, stretching in the couch like a cat. "If you were counting on me to check, we obviously don't need it that badly."

**Annoying Old Man (19:21)**  
_wronggg, we're so married (~˘▾˘)~_  
_so married, yura_  
_you could have this too if you moved in with us_  
_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_  
_formally, I mean_  
_yuuri would like it, and I wouldn't mind (｡◕‿◕｡)_  
_you're there all the time anyway_  
_yura???? (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)_  
_yura, please_  
_milk y/n?_

Yuri sighs, very deeply, and holds himself back from smacking his phone against the wall.

**To: Annoying Old Man (19:21)**  
_no_

**Annoying Old Man (19:21)**  
_no milk or no moving in? (◕‿◕✿)_

**To: Annoying Old Man (19:21)**  
_both_  
_i can steal katsudon just as well like this_  
_and i don't have to watch you being all gross with him more than necessary_  
_win win_

When he slips his phone back into his jeans, he finds Yuuri staring at him, all fond and soft-looking in the oversized sweater that Yuri sneaked into his closet a few months ago while pretending it _totally_ wasn't a gift and it _definitely_ wasn't from him, despite the knitted cat in it. Yuri has never been good at sharing, but he's willing to try for this —not that he wouldn't hesitate even for a heartbeat if he stumbled into the opportunity of actually stealing Yuuri away from Victor. Well, as long as there weren't any tears and drama involved, anyway.

He gets up and walks into the kitchen, crowding into Yuuri's space under the excuse of checking the meal he's making. He hooks his chin in Yuuri's shoulder, trapping him against the counter by resting his palms on it, his chest pressed against Katsudon's back. It _doesn't_ count as affection if he has ulterior motives.

"Are you staying tonight?" Yuuri asks, with a smile in his voice.

His hands don't falter as they wash the knife he's been using, the vegetables and meat frying in the background, but that can easily change if Yuri wants it to. Well, probably. Yuuri _is_ scarily confident when he feels like it; it's always surprising. And _hot_. Yuri absolutely needs to do something about that, but not today and not here, not when Victor is going to return sooner or later. It's gross enough that they have to share Katsudon, Yuri is so _not_ having sex with him where Victor can easily catch them at it.

Although the idea of fucking in Victor's bed is pretty tempting.

"Yeah," Yuri decides. He'll have this one thing, at least. "I'm staying. And you're sleeping in the guest room with me."

Yuuri chuckles, but doesn't complain.

"You could sleep in the main bedroom with us," he does suggest. He slips the knife back into its place and rests his hands over Yuri's. "I'm sure Victor could skip his octopus routine for once and keep to his side of the bed."

He sounds vaguely hopeful, but Yuri is not an idiot.

"Maybe if you bought a bigger bed," he says. He's pretending not to notice Yuuri interlacing their fingers. "And put like, a sword between Victor and us. A very sharp sword."

"Was that- a King Arthur reference?" Yuuri asks, amused.

"No!" Yuri jumps, nearly dislodging their hands. "It's in a Russian fairy tale too. Well, in many." He realizes he's just admitted he reads fairy tales and breathes out slowly. "Is dinner done yet?" he grumbles.

"Ah, right!" Yuuri startles. "Yurochka, please put the pan away from the heat while I prepare the guest room."

But before he can actually move to —grudgingly— obey, Yuuri turns his head and catches Yuri's lips in a kiss. Usually, their height difference would annoy Yuri, but not when Katsudon shifts one of his hands to Yuri's hair, tugging lightly at it to keep his head tilted upwards.

Yuri lets out a content sound and presses his front harder against Yuuri's back.

"Yura, the pan," Yuuri breathes, breaking the kiss. Like _he_ 's not the one who distracted Yuri.

But Yuri does want to get laid sometime soon, so he holds that comment back with minimal effort and goes to turn off the cooker. Dinner smells great, Yuri has to give him that. He used to break into Victor's flat —only technically, since the idiot did give him a spare key— back before they'd met Katsudon, and the man only had vodka and frozen meals stocked messily in the freezer. He remembers once Victor had actually been in the flat at the time of the break-in and tried to pretend he was a functional adult by preparing Yuri lunch, and he'd _burnt water_. Or at least, overboiled it so much that it had spilled everywhere and left a horrible smell in the entire flat when it hit the burners.

It's like heaven for Victor now Yuuri's here, as he won't stop reminding them. Yuri isn't sure he can blame him for this one; he's overjoyed too for not having to subject himself to Victor's _'cooking'_ anymore.

"When's Victor coming back?" he asks Yuuri, as soon as he walks back into the kitchen.

Yuuri looks surprised for about a second, until he notices Yuri has taken a fork out of the drawers and is happily stealing Kotlety from the pan. The glare Yuri gets then is pretty impressive, but not _exactly_ the one he wants.

"Around ten, why?" Yuuri says, wary. He wrestles the fork out of Yuri's hand and sets it on the counter, sighing in exasperation. "Couldn't you wait until it was plated, at least?"

"Eh, just checking if we had time for a fuck," Yuri replies with forced flippancy. He can feel his cheeks reddening just as Yuuri's are, so he focuses his gaze on Katsudon's hands, which are splitting dinner between three plates in slightly awkward movements. "It's been way too long, Katsudon," he whines.

"We're very busy," Yuuri mumbles, which is true, but not an answer.

He wraps one of the plates in aluminium foil, puts it in the fridge, and carries the other two plates to the dinning table. Yuri watches him with a scowl, but eventually moves to sit in front of Katsudon, who is increasingly looking like he'd much rather be anywhere else. Only one of them is allowed to be a flustered mess in sex stuff, though, and it's so _not_ going to be Yuuri —mostly because they've already learned that Yuri taking the lead in that is a terrible idea that ends in screaming and frustration more often than not.

Luckily for both of them, Yuri _is_ awesome at awakening Confident Katsudon.

"I'm sure that's not a problem with _Victor_ ," he says petulantly. Protectiveness often does the trick, if Yuri plays his cards right for it to arise. "I'm sure you're finding some time for _him_ in our busy schedules just fine."

"Yura," Yuuri says, frowning, "you know it's not like that."

And Yuri does know that —most of the time, at least—, but he still plays dejectedly with his food while trying to look as pitiful as possible. Nothing worries Katsudon more than Yuri not eating, which- fair enough, it _is_ a reliable sign that Yuri's not okay.

"Whatever," he mumbles.

It doesn't count as manipulation if he's doing it for the good of both of them. Besides, Yuuri is not as oblivious as he looks; he always knows when Yuri — _or_ Victor, for the record— is just playing and when he's upset for real, but both cases manage to bring out the Yuuri that might or might not make Yuri a little weak in the knees. From the surprise only, _of course_.

"This is not really about the sex, is it?" Yuuri asks, soft, not even stumbling over the word. _Score_.

"Kind of," Yuri admits, and allows himself a huge bite of Kotlety. "You really should check your phone, by the way. You know how your ridiculous boyfriend gets when you're not paying him attention for more than five minutes."

"You mean _one_ of my ridiculous boyfriends," Yuuri corrects him, and Yuri grins despite himself. " _Yura_. Why don't you just tell me what you want?"

"Read your texts first," Yuri grumbles. He's hoping to buy himself some time to think of a way of telling Katsudon what he wants that won't end in utter embarrassment and possibly death for both of them.

Yuuri takes the bait, fishing his phone out of his pocket and turning it back on —how he can bear to turn it off at all, Yuri won't ever understand. There are, predictably, the consecutive pings of about a thousand notifications. Yuuri winces while scrolling through some of his texts, but in the end he just shakes his head, fond, and slids his phone over to Yuri so he can pick up his ritual of making fun of Victor's overeagerness.

**Vitya <3 (20:14)**  
_yuriiiiii_  
_love of my liveeeee_  
_are you still busy? (ಥ﹏ಥ)_  
_yura said we don't need milk but I know it's all lies_  
_I'll bring some home, don't worry_  
_have fun with yura ( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°)_  
_but not too much fun!!!!_  
_I live there too!! (ʘᗩʘ')_  
_I'm so bored! I wish I was home already_  
_did you make kotlety?_  
_I'll try to come home earlier if I can!_  
_I love youuuu (｡◕‿◕｡)_

Yuri snorts. He doesn't bother scrolling up for older messages; he knows exactly what to expect, and it's no fun laughing at Victor if he does the job for him. He's about to pass Katsudon's phone back to him when a thought comes, so sudden and irresistible that Yuri gives in, searching for his own convos with Yuuri.

**Yura <3<3 (15:47)**  
_lmao whatever go take your coffee_  
_but im not saving you from giacometti_  
_and if you go pole dancing again im definitely getting that video_

**To: Yura <3<3 (15:47)**  
_I'm just going for coffee!! It's four in the afternoon, Yura!_  
_And Chris is not getting me into any bars this time, I don't care how badly he wants to see their "genuine black birch stools"._  
_No, thanks._  
_Remember to come by after training! <3_

Two hearts. His name has _two_ hearts. The widest, most self-satisfied smile ever spreads across Yuri's face. _Take that, Victor_. Katsudon's phone goes back to its owner, and Yuri takes his own out and starts typing, lightning-fast.

**To: Katsudon (20:43)**  
_im right here_  
_like id ever forget to come see you_  
_and eat your food. mainly that_  
_we can talk about the sex thing now_

Yuri risks a brief glance up. Katsudon is blinking confusedly at him, but his expression is also soft and interested, and after holding Yuri's gaze for a few tense seconds, he lets his eyes fall to his phone and types out a response. Well, this is not how Yuri planned to tell him —mostly because he hadn't planned any of it—, but he can work with it.

**Katsudon (20:44)**  
_Okay?_

Even his _texts_ sound confused. He's so precious.

Yuri shakes his head harshly to dissipate the intruding thought, irritated at himself. That's great, because irritation doesn't leave much space left for shame, so there. He has to agitatedly consider what he's going to say, because he really has no idea. All he knows is he wants to get Yuuri riled up because, again, a confident Yuuri is a _hot_ Yuuri, and also a Yuuri who will take charge for once so Yuri can lie down —or stand, he's not picky— and properly enjoy how his life sometimes doesn't suck so much.

**To: Katsudon (20:47)**  
_i want you to fuck me_  
_with you in your eros costume  
in the rink_

**Katsudon (20:47)**  
_???_

Yuri very carefully doesn't look away from his phone this time. His hands are sweating. He doesn't know what else he wants, he really hasn't thought this far, but Yuuri is prompting him to keep talking —at least, he hopes that's what his text means— and he can't fuck this up now.

**To: Katsudon (20:49)**  
_youre so hot when u skate_  
_when u win specially_  
_before i met u i already thought of u_  
_wantd u to treat me like an adult for fking once_  
_pull the senior skater rank ovr me_  
_fuck me in the bthrooms after a competition u won_  
_i wouldnt mind losing to u bcs youd remind me i cn do better_

**Katsudon (20:49)**  
_Do you want everyone to see you?_  
_Because that's what would happen if we did that in the rink._

It's not a no. In fact, it's very calm and collected and Yuri doesn't dare to check whether Yuuri is pretending, because it doesn't really matter. He feels his own arousal rising uncomfortably, and he's so _not_ going to do anything about it right now, so his stupid body needs to calm the fuck down.

**To: Katsudon (20:50)**  
_not this one then_  
_in hasetsu_  
_ask ur friend for the keys_

**Katsudon (20:50)**  
_I'm going to leave now._  
_Leave your phone on the table and finish eating._  
_Don't move._

**To: Katsudon (20:50)**  
_will u do it_

**Katsudon (20:51)**  
_I'll think about it. If you behave._  
_Do you have to tell me anything else?_

Yuri sets his phone on the table, breathes in slowly. He knows Yuuri's gaze is fixed on him, but he doesn't acknowledge it, only keeps breathing. He's going to get what he wants. Yuuri is much too good not to give it to him, no matter what he says, and now that Yuri thinks about it there's two weeks left until their next visit to Hasetsu and he already wants to crawl out of his fucking skin in anticipation. Fuck his life.

He types one last text, sending it before going back to his meal. It's already lukewarm, not that Yuri cares. He takes a huge bite and stares at his fork as he eats.

**To: Katsudon (20:51)**  
_no_

**Katsudon (20:51)**  
_Okay._  
_Thank you, Yuri._  
_< 3_

Yuuri and him are alike, deep down. That's how Yuri knows Katsudon only ever says _I love you_ out loud, and even that he does rarely. That's how Yuri understands that's a half-truth, recognizes the words when he sees them. He smiles, ever so slightly, and doesn't startle at the hand suddenly pressing against his shoulder.

Yuuri drops a kiss on his head and leaves, footsteps impossibly quiet.

He comes back a few minutes later. By then, Yuri has already finished his dinner _and_ Katsudon's, because he sort of gets why he had to leave but it's not Yuri's fault that he was naive enough to leave his food unattended. He's still sitting at the table —Yuuri told him so, in that way that gives Yuri thrills whenever he obeys—, but he's not yet bored as fuck; he's been too busy annoying Chulanont further about those pole dancing pics.

Yuuri sits back in front of him, setting a plate of ptichye moloko on the table. Which, alright, he'd said there were none left! He was probably just hiding them away from Yuri and Victor because apparently, eating too many sweets is _bad_. Well, it can't be that bad if Victor's still alive and kicking, old fuck as he is.

Yuri takes a bunch of ptichye moloko and munches at them, watching Katsudon from across the table. He looks calm, so _great_ , but he's also weirdly quiet.

"You do know Victor's not going to bring milk," Yuri says, breaking the silence.

Yuuri gives him a small, resigned smile. His eyes are wide and light now, though, and Yuri preens involutarily, even while Katsudon lets out a dramatic sigh and exchanges with him that look that roughly means _oh, that man_.

"Do I?" he huffs.

Yuri grins and goes back to his sweets.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I'm eventually going to have to write more domestic stuff for this ridiculous verse, aren't I? I have waaay too many headcanons and backstory stuff not to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, finally, here comes the actual fill for the Kink Bingo!  
> Get ready, my dudes, because the kinks for this round are Anonymity, Authority Figures, Competition, Gags/Silence, and Uniforms/Military Kink.

"Are you texting Victor again?" Yuri says, incredulous.

Katsudon lifts his eyes from his phone, lips curling in a bashful smile. The airport is annoyingly busy, but no one has approached them yet after recognizing them, which can only be a good thing because it's five in the fucking morning and Yuri _does not_ get up earlier than ten for anything but ice skating training, and if he does he's always in a terrible mood. And here's Katsudon, with his hand luggage by his feet and a gigantic plastic cup of coffee  —not as big as Yuri's, of course, but pretty close—, and _smiling_.

"He's worried," he shrugs.

" _Worried_?" Yuri repeats. "Does he think I'm going to lose you in the check-in counter? Push you out of the plane? Maybe sell you out in the airport black market for a cat plushie?"

"He was betting on cat slippers, actually."

Yuuri's totally nonchalant reply makes Yuri realize that no, Katsudon isn't trying to joke with him about Victor's ridiculous overprotective tendencies, that unbearable old man has in fact suggested that Yuri would take the first opportunity without him to get rid of Yuuri like Katsudon's some sort of- some- like he's _Victor_.

Yuri grits his teeth and takes out his phone, pressing into the screen so hard that he can almost feel it cracking under his fingers.

 **To: Annoying Old Man (5:26)**  
_FUCK OFF_  
_I HAVEAN ENTIRE FKICNG WEEK TO ELOPE WTH KATSUDON IF I FUCKIN WANT TO_  
_SO DONT U FUCKNG TEST ME_

 **Annoying Old Man (5:27)**  
_aww yurio_  
_you would never elope with my yuuri (｡◕‿‿◕｡)_  
_if you were going to marry him I know you'd want me to watch_  
_I'd have a wedding invite by now_

 **To: Annoying Old Man (5:27)**  
_ITS NOT UR YUURI U ASSHLE_  
_FUCK THE FKCINGG PACT_  
_I WILL FUKCING MARRY HIM RIGHT NOW_

What enfuriates Yuri the most is that Victor is not wrong. If he were to marry Yuuri —not that he _would_ , but, uh, theoretically—, he'd definitely want Victor to be there and fucking _suffer_. And bring an expensive gift.

 **Annoying Old Man (5:28)**  
_good luck finding a chapel in an airport (~˘▾˘)~_  
_yurio, remember I'll go meet you in a week!_  
_so save some of hiroko-san's katsudon for me ლ(´ڡ`ლ)_

Then Yuri breaks one of his most important personal rules and actually _shuts his phone off_. He can't even judge himself, because it's totally an emergency; he's about half a second away of turning around and go back to punch Victor right in the middle of his smug face. Oh, and the airport speakers have just announced that their plane is ready, but that's a minor detail.

Almost an hour later, Yuri pops his head on Katsudon's shoulder and gets ready for a twenty-hours-long nap, because why the hell not. He makes it to five, and spends the rest of the flight playing games on his phone, randomly texting people, and dragging Yuuri into selfies to update his social media with.

Which is why he's jet-lagged and completely out of it when Yuuri kisses him briefly and whispers _Tomorrow_ before ducking into his own bedroom at Yu-topia —for propriety, Katsudon's annoying sister had snorted, mimicking Yuri's internal reaction—, like it's supposed to mean anything. It doesn't, until Yuri's laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, and he remembers Yuuri's promise two weeks ago and he thinks _Shit_.

"We're going to the Ice Castle this afternoon," Yuuri cheerfuly says the next day, while they're eating squid sashimi _with his family_.

Katsuki Mari stares at Yuri's bright red face and grins.

"Is that some sort of code?" she says in broken Russian, and Yuri throws his chopsticks at her. He doesn't point them at her face, though, because he knows she only made a fool of herself in Yuri's mother language so Katsudon's parents wouldn't understand.

"Ah, always training!" Yuuri's mother sighs.

She tells his son something in Japanese that _finally_ makes him blush, but Katsudon only mutters who-knows-what back and stands up. Yuri watches him warily, finishing what's left of his second serving of sashimi in record time. Katsudon's wearing a determined look, which means shit is about to go down, and while it's not the scary one Yuri really doesn't want directed at him  —no one with any brains does—, it's still impressive enough to get Yuri on his feet.

"Let's go to the river, Yura," Yuuri offers, smiling. "Before it gets too hot outside."

"I won't melt, you know," Yuri complains, but he still tilts his head towards the Katsuki family in goodbye and follows Yuuri.

"It's at least ten degrees more than in Saint Petersburg," Yuuri reminds him, and before Yuri can react with the appropiate horror, he disappears into his bedroom. "Just a second," he yells.

And he reappears with a garment bag neatly folded over one arm and a grin so bright it's probably illegal in a couple of countries. Yuri makes absolutely no questions, he only presses his lips tight together and stares at the ground as they walk, their sides brushing, until they reach the river.

They lean over the bridge's railing, Yuri's head resting over his folded arms. Katsudon, after hanging the garment bag on one of the bridge's decorations, lets his hands hang over the edge and clenches and unclenches them spasmodically, gaze fixed on the skyline.

"Still want this?" Yuuri asks, very quietly, and Yuri pretends he doesn't notice the gentle trembling underneath the words and nods. Yuuri must catch the movement from the corner of his eye, seems satisfied with it. "You can tell me to stop anytime. No matter what we're doing. Even if- even if it's something we've done before, something you'd usually want. If it doesn't feel right- no, if you don't want it, just say it. This is not about endurance or- it isn't about any of that. So promise," he says, turning his head towards Yuri —who can only imagine how earnest Katsudon looks, because he refuses to gaze back—, "promise you'll tell me to stop, Yuri."

"I promise," Yuri replies, irritated despite himself. "I thought we were past this. I learned my fucking lesson, okay?"

"Yura, I'm just worrying-"

"I know," Yuri interrupts, softer. "But it's different now."

"Okay," Katsudon says. "Okay."

He picks up the garment bag and starts walking again, without saying a thing. Yuri, after a second of hesitation, follows.

The ice rink is dark and empty, dormant, a fact Yuuri obviously took into account while planning this. The keys don't shake in his hand, but the sound of the door opening is impossibly loud. They both stop just past the doorway, like they're going to make a run for it, and Yuri waits, breathing in heavily the chilly air of the rink, for the moment Yuuri makes his move and the scene begins.

"You can wait for me in the locker room," Katsudon says, gentle.

It's as close to an order as Katsuki Yuuri ever gets, so Yuri goes, but not before pressing his mouth against Yuuri's so hard that he almost draws blood.

The locker room is still chilly enough that zipping up his jacket wouldn't be his worst idea, but instead he gets it off and throws it on a bench. He rests his palms against a locker door, lets his head fall foward until his forehead is touching the cool metal, and frantically tries to control his breathing and the pounding of his heart. It's not helpful.

"Yuri Plisetsky," a voice says from behind him, in a curious lilt.

Yuri scowls and turns around. He's not ready for Yuuri in his Eros costume, staring him down from his relatively superior height. He should be —he was the one who _asked_ for it —, but he's not.

"The great Katsuki Yuuri knows my name?" he replies, stumbling over the words. It's not even faked.

"You were one of my competitors," Yuuri says. "And I wouldn't say _great_."

"But you did win," Yuri insists, between his teeth.

"That doesn't mean I'm _great_. It only means I did better than you." There's no meaness to his words, no intent to hurt  —not even in-scene—, but Yuri still feels his hackles raising. "A pity," Katsudon adds, like he means it. "Your step sequence is weak, but you move beautifully on the ice."

And no, _no_. This is _worse_. He was meant to be rough and rude, take Yuri like he owned him so Yuri could be proud of himself for surrendering to such strength, but of course fucking Katsuki wouldn't be like that to save his life, and this, this slow seduction, this is nothing Yuri knows how to give himself up to without being torn open.

"Have you been _watching_ me?" Yuri asks, anyway, sandpaper in his throat.

"Oh, no, not really," Yuuri replies, smiling as if ashamed. "I had heard your name before, of course, but I hadn't- uh, paid attention until today."

It's not entirely a lie, which is why it hurts. Yuri asked this of him knowing that it would, though. The truth is, he doubts Katsudon had been following Yuri's career the way he followed Katsudon's —not that he'd ever dare to ask—, and before they officially met they'd actually already met twice, and Yuuri _didn't remember_. And one of them, yes, alright, he was too drunk to, but what about the other, the first time? It burns like so few other things do, the knowledge his idol  —because he was, as different from Victor as he could be, but he _was_ or even _is_ , really— didn't even judge him important enough to be remembered.

"Fuck you," Yuri says. And he means it, from the deepest parts of his heart.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Katsudon replies, and gets closer, cornering Yuri with his back against the locker. "I just- I really think you could do better," he whispers, bringing his hands to rest on each side of Yuri's head.

It's not even how Yuuri looks in the goddamned costume. Not physically, at least. And yes, he looks hot as fuck in it, but all Yuri can see is the confidence, the power Yuuri wields apparent even in the smallest of the gestures. It's so much better than pole dancing Yuuri, more focused. It's almost as good as ice skating Yuuri, only mostly lacking that untouchable quality. A lesser man would burn himself down in those eyes, and Yuri isn't such, but he does find it so much harder to breathe, and it's so rare that he feels this small and Yuuri is so good at making him, and not even in the way that makes Yuri want to scream.

"One day," Yuri hisses, grabbing Katsudon's hips hard enough to leave bruises, "I'm going to win the Grand Prix."

Yuuri beams, clearly getting the irony of it, and shoves his face so close to Yuri's that their breaths intermingle. Yuri is already half-hard and he hasn't even been _touched_.

"I look forward to it," Katsudon says. One of his hands drops to Yuri's stomach, slids under his shirt to stroke up to his chest. "But still, you lost today." He takes on a contemplative expression, and Yuri unwillingly shivers because he can feel the improvisation coming, and Katsudon improvising is terrifying and always leads to satisfaction. "Maybe it's not so much your step sequence as your _stamina_."

And there it is, the fucking coup de grace.

"My stamina?" Yuri repeats. He might as well play the game, and if his voice shakes, Yuuri doesn't call him out on it. "Are we going to work on it, oh sensei?" he mocks him. "I've heard _all_ kind of tales about _your_ stamina."

Yuuri is blushing, but otherwise unaffected. "Why don't you strip and we find out?" he says, while making it clear that it's not an offer at all.

So Yuri pulls the shirt over his head and throws it away, trying to ignore Katsudon's hand lazily tracing figures on his stomach and chest, and then does the same with the rest of his clothes, until he's naked and barefoot in a goddamned locker room, freezing. Katsudon, Yuri notes, remains dressed.

"Aren't you going to take that off?" he taunts him, but Yuuri only smiles.

"No, I don't think I will. This is _your_ exercise, not mine, after all." After a brief pause, he grins wider. "And I thought that you liked my costume, Yuri Plisetsky."

"You thought wrong," Yuri lies, and has to choke down a moan when Yuuri takes him in his hand and _squeezes_.

"Ah, in that case," Yuuri grins, "there's no need for you to see it, is there?"

And he releases Yuri for long enough to turn him around, leaving him in the same position he was in the beginning, his hands on a locker door and his back to Katsudon. Yuri puts up only token resistance, because while this scene's not about that, if Katsudon wants him pliant and obedient he's going to have to _earn_ it. He's already too vulnerable, completely exposed under Yuuri's gaze, and he can't help but shiver when he feels the fingerless gloves of Yuuri's costume trailing down his sides.

"You suck as a coach," Yuri tells him, even as he pushes back into the touch.

"I haven't even started!" Katsudon replies, indignant, and then he actually drags his fucking _nails_ across Yuri's ass. "A bit of respect for your elders, if you would. I did win today's competititon; you could stand to learn something from me."

"It was a minor competition. And fuck off."

"You know that's not true. If it'd been that minor, you wouldn't have been here at all. Or been so upset when you lost to me, for that matter."

Yuri is about to answer something appropiately scathing, but Yuuri grabs his hips and pulls, rearranging him to his heart's content —body further away from the locker instead of almost pressed against it, his entire position shifted so his ass is tilted up and entirely accesible—, and fucking hell, it's so easy to forget how strong Katsudon actually is, but the reminder is always worth it.

"What the hell," Yuri hisses.

"Stay," Yuuri replies. His footsteps disappear from behind Yuri, but don't go far. There's some kind of rustling sound. "See?" Katsudon suddenly says, warm. He's back, stroking Yuri's thigh, the soft material of his costume's sleeves brushing Yuri's skin. "There's nothing wrong with your form, at least."

Yuri doesn't bother to turn his head, satisfied with hearing a bottle opening somewhere behind him. Then there are slick fingers gently circling his hole, and Yuri lets out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding.

"There's nothing wrong with anything I do," he says, gritting his teeth. "I'm the best fucking skater here, and if the judges can't see then it's their fucking loss."

Katsudon doesn't answer, irritatingly enough. He pushes a finger into Yuri, rocks it slowly, and it's nowhere near what Yuri wants but he's dripping anyway, and furious because of it. Yuuri adds another finger, without bothering to thrust into Yuri's prostate. Sometimes he's a bastard like that.

"You're going to come like this," Yuuri says, soft. "I'm not going to touch you, and you're not going to touch yourself either."

"That's all?" Yuri snorts. He swallows down a really embarrassing sound that threatens to come out, but Yuuri must know somehow, because he thrusts a third finger into him, and this time he points them at Yuri's prostate and presses hard enough that Yuri bucks into it with a shout. "T-This training's fucking- ah, ridiculous."

"It's only the first part," Yuuri replies, patient as ever.

Yuri could easily slid his hands down the locker and get himself off, but that's not really what he _wants_ —even if it sure does feel like it. Instead, he meets Yuuri's thrusting with his own, and the liquid fire in his stomach grows and grows until he knows for sure he's going to fucking _die_ if he doesn't come. And Katsudon still isn't fucking touching him, not his thighs and not his nipples and most definitely not his cock, not that Yuri would be able to feel it skin on skin, considering how little of Katsudon's is showing, but at least he'd get the brush of Katsudon's costume. It would even be hot, but _no_.

"What the- _shit_ \- the fuck are you waiting for?" he hisses.

"For you to finish, of course," Yuuri says, so innocent-sounding that it has to be fake. "But you're taking your time, Yuri Plisetsky."

"Stop- fucking calling me t-that," Yuri groans. "And fucking _touch me_."

"But that would hardly help, would it?" Katsudon insists. Another direct hit to Yuri's prostate, and for an instant his vision blacks out and he's _certain_ he's going to come, some-fucking-how, but it only leaves his legs weak and everything hurting. "Don't worry," Yuuri says, almost cheerfully, "you _will_ come first, for once."

The sound Yuri makes is not even close to human. It also sounds too much like a sob, which only pisses him off further.

"Fuck you, f-fuck you, fuck you, _fuck you_ -"

"That's not a way to talk to a senior skater," Yuuri chides, like Yuri's a goddamned _child_. "And when I'm only trying to help, too."

"F-fuck-"

"You've talked back enough," Yuuri huffs, and his fingers stop inside Yuri. "No more curses, or insults, or anything that isn't a completely polite request." A pause, during which Yuri squirms and tries not to kill someone —or weep and _then_ kill someone. "You _do_ know how to be polite," Yuuri says, not quite a question, but with a hesitant, wordless _right?_ attached. The thrusting starts up again, and this time Yuri is so close to the edge of something, whole body tense and expectant. "Ah, but do make all the noise you want. I need to know if I'm doing this right," Katsudon adds, sweetly.

And Yuri, embarrassingly enough, chooses that moment to come.

There's another _fuck_ at the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, almost cutting through his own tongue. He's completely silent as he arches up, and even that is an act of defiance, the only one he can afford as he shudders through his orgasm.

Yuuri lets him recover, rubbing his back like Yuri's some kind of sick puppy. It does feel good, though, so that's why he holds himself back from slapping Katsudon's hand away. He wants to laugh himself sick at Yuuri's idea of training, too, but he guesses that wouldn't be very _polite_ , and he doesn't actually want to fuck this up —because if he knows Katsudon at all, they're far from done.

"Very good," Yuuri says, impressed. It's ridiculous that it can make pride bloom in Yuri's chest, but well. "Can you hold that position for a while longer?"

 _Are you fucking kidding me_ , Yuri wants to say, thinking of long hours practicing with Baranovskaya and Yakov, ballet and ice skating and even fucking meditation —more than once, which is at least one time too many—, how he might not have Yuuri's stamina because _no one_ fucking does but his legs still don't burn unless he's a step away from collapsing from exhaustion.

"Yes," is what Yuri actually replies, valiantly trying to pack all his frustration and disbelief into that one syllable.

"Alright," Yuuri says, and for the smile in his voice, he has understood perfectly. "Do you know what we're going to do now?"

"I'm going to take you in and you're going to come," Yuri suggests, smirking.

 _It's not that hard to guess, Katsuki_ sits at the tip of his tongue, and stays there. This wasn't part of the plan, but Yuri does love when Katsudon improvises, and this is- interesting. He doesn't hold himself back for just anyone, doesn't react well to attempts at silencing or mellowing him in general, so it's really weird that this imposed silence feels _liberating_ , of all the things.

"No. We're _both_ going to come."

This time the curses pile up in his mouth, so abundant that Yuri almost chokes on them, and Katsudon just nonchalantly opens the bottle of lube again and starts lubing himself up, if the ragged breathing behind Yuri is any indication.

"What-" Yuri begins, and puts the words through his vitriol-to-mild mental filter again. "Why? _How_?"

"You have to build up your stamina, remember?" Yuuri replies, soft, holding onto Yuri's waist with a gloved hand.

He pushes into Yuri slowly, and Yuri lets out a sigh and takes him in, shifting to get the perfect angle. Fucking Katsudon is still wearing the entire costume, for what Yuri can tell, and he sort of wants to turn around and find out how Katsudon managed that despite currently being thrusting into him, but- well, Katsudon _is_ thrusting into him, and Yuri's a little too distracted by it and the constant brush of the cloth between them, the decorative crystals digging into Yuri's back whenever Katsudon leans forward, the goddamned half-skirt fluttering around.

Yuri has just come —and Katsudon is leaving his prostate well alone for now, because he's not that cruel, thank fuck—, but he's still, somehow, getting off on this. Giacometti's ridiculous flirting usually intends to lead to naked people, but Yuri can only think he's an even sadder man than he'd believed if he hasn't discovered the huge turn-on that is someone fucking you while their only uncovered skin is their cock- and that's a terrible thought to have while he's having sex, Giacometti should _not_ be invited into this moment, he's all too capable of appearing out of thin air just for the occasion.

Yuri wants Katsudon to fuck him _harder_ , if only to erase that thought, but he's in fact terrible at _'polite requests'_. He stays silent, even when Yuuri decides it's been long enough and finds his prostate again, unerringly as always.

"Close already?" Yuuri says, and he sounds _wrecked_ , and if Yuri wasn't close then, now he most certainly is.

And this is Katsuki fucking Yuuri, which means he's enough of a stamina wizard to fuck Yuri to his second orgasm, nevermind that he's probably been hard since they started too and hasn't had the benefit of release yet. Shit, if Yuri ever marries, he's _definitely_ marrying Katsuki fucking Yuuri. He might even let Katsudon convince him to hyphenate if he asks nicely enough.

But for now, Yuri gives him something even more precious.

"Please," he hisses, forcing his voice as low as it'll go.

Yuuri hears him anyway, of course, and leans forward to kiss his shoulder blade. And that, of all the fucking things, is what finally makes Yuri's legs weak. Before he can even begin to worry about suffering the humilliation of collapsing in the middle of fucking, Yuuri's thrusting picks up speed, and one of the gloved hands that are gripping Yuri's hips shifts to stroke Yuri's cock from tip to base.

He barely holds the curse in this time, clenching his teeth so hard that it hurts. He starts shaking, sudden and uncontrollable, and that's the only warning he gets before he comes.

It seems to go on _forever_ , and only goes on further when Yuuri comes too. It's bordering on painful when it finally fucking stops, leaving Yuri so unbalanced that he doesn't even mind when Yuuri pulls him to his chest and almost bodily carries him to sit with him on the bench. Well, on the towel spreaded over it, actually, thank fuck.

Yuri buries his face in Katsudon's neck —the costume's collar digging into his forehead— and reminds his body of how breathing works.

"Yura?" Katsudon whispers, obviously breathless too. Knowing him, he's only bothering to speak because he wants to check up on Yuri, and Yuri's not entirely heartless, so he makes a vague sound in response, hoping it's enough. "Was that what you wanted?"

They're holding each other up, curled in the bench like children, and Yuuri keeps rubbing his side in a constant, soothing motion, so it's understandable that Yuri very nearly forgets to answer at all.

"Yeah," he mumbles. And then, very fast, "Thanks."

"You don't have to-" Yuuri starts, but then he just shakes his head and nuzzles the spot behind Yuri's ear. "I feel like I should be apologizing to Yuuko. This is _not_ what she gave me the keys for."

He sounds vaguely horrified. Yuri would burst into laughter, if he had any energy left for it.

"How many wash cycles is that costume going to need?" he muses out loud.

Katsudon actually _groans_.

"I'm never listening to you again."

Yuri snorts, and finally manages to gather enough will to disentangle himself from Yuuri, at least enough for his hand to reach Katsudon's clothes on the other side of the bench. He takes Katsudon's phone out of a pocket, making a pleased sound when he doesn't complain, only watches in amusement as Yuri unlocks his phone.

**37 new messages from Vitya <3**

Yuri grins, leaning back against Katsudon like a pleased cat.

Everything is right in the world.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My god, writing the actual smut was like pulling teeth. I think I'll stick to domesticity for this pairing from now on (sighh yes, I _will_ end up writing curtain fic for them, apparently; thanks, brain).  
>  EDIT: I'm actually writing more!


End file.
